


Curse My Innocence Goodbye

by Smokestarrules



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Rhodes Can You Not Tell An Abused Child She's Irredeemable Please, Title is from "Awake" by Ok Goodnight ofc, a (re)telling of Cinder's episode ofc along w a couple of creative liberties, and Salem sucks to there's that too, anyways warning there IS pretty brutal death in here, bc its.. Cinder, bc thats ~Cinder's Song~, good for me, heyyy so I finally managed to finish another onshot, just FYI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokestarrules/pseuds/Smokestarrules
Summary: Killing The Madame is liberating. This woman, who’d bound and chained her near literally, who’d tortured her for years, who’d starved and shocked and enslaved her is dead. And just as she falls limply to the ground, neck broken and the godforsaken necklace still sparking around Cinder’s throat, the door shuts behind someone else, a newcomer to the scene.It’s Rhodes. “Cinder.”Cinder smiles. She holds out her hands to show him exactly what she’s done. He’ll be proud of her, right? She finally stood up for herself. Now she doesn’t have to wait another two years until she can leave. She can leave right now. She shrugs as if to say, look, Rhodes! “I won’t have to run now.” The smile never leaves her face. It’s got a frantic, desperate tinge to it.Desperate for love, desperate for companionship, desperate for approval, oum, that above all else, approval, his approval-“That’s all you’ll ever do.”…….OhOr;What happens at Midnight?Everything goes back to the way it began.
Relationships: Cinder Fall & Rhodes, Cinder Fall & Salem
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Curse My Innocence Goodbye

Her first home in Mistral is…. not the worst place for a child to be, usually. There’s lots of land to play in on the farm-turned-orphanage, a tutor who’s good enough at his job, and plenty of other kids to talk to. Not that Cinder does. No one really likes to talk to her, and she guesses that’s because she’s particularly annoying. It’s okay; she can play make believe on her own anyway. Her favorite game is Huntress. She likes to pretend that the tall wheatgrass that grows all around the farmhouse are creatures of Grimm; that she is the only one who can protect the orphanage from the monsters. She always defeats them; she always  _ saves  _ her fellow orphans from certain death. She  _ always  _ wins, no matter how hard the Grimm are. 

So yeah. The orphanage is.. fine. 

Sure, there’s not quite enough food for them all, but that’s okay. Cinder doesn’t mind going hungry more often than not in order for the younger kids to be able to eat. The younger kids need more food than anyone, after all. 

…..She’s six. 

But it’s certainly not horrible! Just… she gets hungry sometimes, is all. And some of the older kids are mean, and they take more from her already meager rations, but that’s okay too. They.. must need it more, because if they didn’t, the curator would tell them to stop. The curator is one of the adults that lives on the farm with them. His name is Hungu. He is strict, but kind, and Cinder thinks he’s amazing. He’s so good about making sure most of the kids don’t fight, and even though he never seems to want to talk to her much, she considers him the closest person to him. He’s always,  _ always  _ teaching her something. 

He talks over her at dinner, but that’s because she’s too loud. He rolls her eyes when offers to help him go to the market and buy food, but that’s because he thinks she’ll try to steal more for herself. She wouldn’t, but something she’d done must have given him that assessment of her character. She’ll be better. He watches as the other kids push her around and tackles her to the ground when she fights back. That’s okay. He must be trying to teach her something; maybe to just take the pain and not fight back? 

...That must be it. That’s what she’ll do next time. 

“Good morning, Hungu,” she tells him when she gets up. She’s always one of the very first to get out of bed in the morning; bad things tend to happen if the older kids wake up before she does. Hungu is sitting at the kitchen table and he doesn't look up. He must be doing something important, like bills, or filling out forms for new kids. “Is there anything for breakfast?”

He takes ten seconds to answer, and when he does, it’s with a heavy sigh and shake of his head. “You’re always talking about food, Cinder. Don’t you realize that there’s not enough for everyone to have three meals a day?  _ No,  _ there’s not anything for breakfast.”

She wilts back, but can’t help but push. She knows this is a bad habit of hers, but she’s just woken up and her stomach is already growling. “But.. I see bread there,” she points towards it. It’s a rare sight on the counter. “Is.. that not for breakfast?”

This time, he finally looks at her, but his eyes are flaming and his voice is tight with anger. “I said  _ no,”  _ he says, a growl in his chest, “and if you aren’t going to listen to me, then you can  _ leave.”  _ She knows he means it. 

“Yes, sir.”

She’s half a step from leaving the room before he speaks again. “Actually-” Hopeful, she turns back at his voice, but he’s gone back to not looking at her. “If you’re awake enough to complain, you’re awake enough to help out. Go and clean the barn; some people are coming today to look at adoption, and I want the floors  _ spotless,  _ understand?”

Her heart sinks. “Yes, sir.”

She grabs the bucket and mop from the back closet and starts to head towards the barn. 

This is okay. 

She just must’ve caught him on a bad day. It’s fine. 

_ (It’s…  _ less  _ fine when Hungu decides that since Cinder seems to be so good at it, she’ll just be the resident cleaner of the barn for the rest of eternity, but.. that’s because he trusts her, right? So it’s okay) _

_ (And besides, he’s right. She is _ very  _ good at it) _

She won’t understand why until years and years later, after her revolution and far after she’s taken her revenge, but her adoption is different from the other kids’. Her adoption includes her new mother coming  _ all the way from Atlas  _ to come and get her. The woman, tall and beautiful, gives Cinder  _ one  _ look, says, “yes, you’ll do,” and then turns to Hungu; says, “I’ll take her.” 

Cinder can’t believe it. She’s being  _ adopted.  _ She gives Hungu a slightly one-sided hug and packs up her two sets of clothes in one small, plastic bag. Her new mother gives a scoff when she sees Cinder’s belongings, or lack thereof, but she doesn’t say anything, instead just gestures towards the airship; the very first one Cinder’s ever been on. “To Atlas, then,” her new mother says to the pilot, “let’s be off.”

And this is when it  _ really  _ starts. 

At first, Cinder thinks she’s been saved. Madame - not _mom,_ not _mother,_ just _Madame -_ is kind to her, giving her more food than she’s ever had in one go. _An entire loaf_ \- well, half a loaf - _just for her!_ She gets her own room; sure, it’s a basement with a sheet and one blanket, but it’s _her own room._ She also has a family! The Madame, of course, _and_ she has sisters now! She’s never had sisters before; hopefully they’ll get along well. At first, it seems like a dream come true. 

_ (At first) _

Her first day is spent figuring out her new chores. There are many of them, but that’s okay. The Glass Unicorn is a big hotel; everyone needs to help keep it clean! She’s exhausted by the time the moon has  _ finally  _ risen, but she’s managed to complete every single task given to her, and she’s  _ proud  _ of that. 

The Madame comes to meet her as she prepares for bed that night. Cinder tries to stand up straight when she sees her coming, but her back aches too much to accomplish it very well. “H-hello,” she says, trembling slightly. “Um. Did- did you need me to do something else?” The Madame gives her a kind smile. 

“No, dear,” she says, setting a hand on Cinder’s shoulder, “I just wanted to congratulate you on your first day with us. In fact, I have a gift for you.” No one’s ever given her a gift before. Cinder’s eyes grow wide, but she takes the small package from Madame. After lingering _(for too long)_ on the wrapping, she opens it. It’s a necklace; white cords strung around a gorgeous golden gem in the middle. For a moment, Cinder’s not sure what to do. She’s never had something _wholly hers,_ not besides the few clothes she’d gone through the trouble to bring with, only to have them instantly thrown into a furnace. She’s frozen staring at it for a moment. _Too slow._

“If you don’t like it, then I can return it.”

“No!” Cinder shakes her head fiercely. “No, it’s-” she looks back down at it. It’s easily the most expensive thing she’s ever held. “It’s beautiful.” 

Madame gives a sigh. “In Atlas, it is polite to thank those who give you gifts,” she says pointedly. “I suppose the farmers in Mistral don’t teach their young those rules. You will have to learn that.”

“Yes, sorry-” her grip tightens around the necklace as she straightens her back an inch more. “Thank you, Madame.” She bows, chest deep and posture perfect.

This time, Madame’s sigh is less disappointed. “You’re welcome. Do you need help putting it on?” 

This time, Cinder shakes her head. She can’t be seen as weak to her new  _ Atlesian  _ family. She’ll figure it out herself. “No ma’am,” she says. “And thank you, again.

“Mhmm.” Madame gives her a nod. Now carefully making her way out of the room, she pauses on the steps. “And Cinder.” She waits until Cinder has met her eyes, and then gives her another smile. “Welcome to Atlas.”

;;

The Madame keeps her kind facade up for all of a day and a half. ...No, that’s mean of Cinder to think. The Madame  _ tolerates her mistakes  _ for all of a day and a half, but by lunchtime of the second day Cinder’s been in Atlas, she’s already been scolded upwards of three times. She just keeps getting things wrong, but she  _ swears  _ that she’ll learn how to do her chores quickly, efficiently, and be able to defy expectations soon. She just needs to learn the building, what cleaning supplies go for what, and how she’s supposed to talk to the patrons of  _ The Glass Unicorn.  _

“I will not tolerate these kinds of mistakes for much longer, Cinder,” The Madame tells her as she shows her where Cinder will be getting her food, “understand that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cinder says, too hungry to care much about whatever she’s agreeing to. 

_ (She’s disappointed that her plate isn’t much more full than it had been back in Mistral, but she doesn’t dare complain. She eats the whole thing in very few bites and savors every crumb) _

;;

She’s a week into her new home when she realizes the true reason she’d been given that pretty, golden necklace.

Pain. Pure, shocking, _agonizing_ pain laces down her neck. It feels like how she’d think being struck by lightning would feel, continuous torment choking her throat in such a tight grasp that she can't even breathe. All she’d done was take one _five-minute_ break while washing the dishes and suddenly there’d been what seemed to be a five-hundred dish pileup and many irritated patrons without clean plates. 

She’s messed up,  _ bad. _ ...She deserves this.

“You are nothing,” snaps The Madame, curling her lip up in an ugly sneer. “Do you understand me? I gave your life purpose, and this is how you repay me?! You are _nothing_ without me!” Cinder is flung to the floor as the pain stops suddenly. She heaves for air, trying in vain to stop the tiny, whimpering noises that are coming out of her mouth. “Look at me,” The Madame says. Cinder does. The woman’s finger is set squarely on the button that held the power of the pain, and Cinder could barely tear her eyes away from her stepmother’s hand. “What are you, Cinder?” 

In the back of her mind, Cinder wonders what the point of this is. She’s already broken; has been ever since The Madame met her. She doesn’t fight,  _ won’t  _ fight, because there’s no point to it. She pauses one second too long anyways, trying to catch her breath, and The Madame shocks her again. A short one, but still leaves tingles of pain tingling down her spine. “NOTHING!” This time, her voice rings out loud and clear. “Without you, I am nothing.”

She can’t meet The Madame’s eyes anymore; instead, she stares at the ground. “Indeed. Now that you know the punishment, I am sure you will do better next time.” The woman leaves the room, heels clicking on the floor. 

And Cinder, still trembling, muscles still spasming and beginning to ache, feels for the first time a tiny pinprick of anger. 

;;

Anger is a feeling she’ll quickly grow used to. The first time she unlocks her Semblance, it’s activated by anger. She’s watching some of the patrons; a tall Huntsman showing off his new sword, when her stepsisters approach her. 

...This is never a good sign. 

Clorinda and Tisbe decide to be annoying  _ (as always, growls a dark thought, which are present in her mind more often than not these days)  _ and purposely wait until Cinder is  _ this close  _ to finishing before they begin to track muddy footprints all over through the entire hallway. 

Cinder sighs. 

_ What has she done to deserve this kind of treatment?  _

_ (A thought that often crosses her mind, but one she always pushes away. This life isn’t too bad; she just keeps messing up) _

And she would have continued thinking that, would have dealt with the now-filthy carpet, but then her stepsisters chose to open their  _ (rather large)  _ mouths. 

“Oops,” Clorinda says, purposefully smearing even more mud -  _ actual mud.  _ Where did they even find the stuff? They’re in  _ Atlas -  _ across the carpet. “Looks like you missed a spot.” She giggles cruelly; beside her, Tisbe covers her own laugh with one hand. “Guess you’ll have to start  _ all  _ over again, or mom might be mad.” She turns to her sister. “What do you think, Tisbe?”

“I think you’re right, Clorinda,” Tisbe giggles in response. Cinder’s grip around the scrub brush tightens. “Mom is mad at you a lot, Cinder. But I think that’s warranted, don’t you? After all, you do mess up  _ a lot.”  _ This last line is punctuated by purposely digging her heels into the now-soaked floor, creating grooves of caked-in mud that Cinder just  _ knows  _ is going to take an hour to scrub out. 

She snaps. 

Without a single thought other than the ever-present,  _ hurt them hurt them hurt them MAKE THEM PAY-  _ she throws the scrub brush away, aiming for Tisbe’s stupid, mocking face. It’s only after it connects does she realize that the thing is smoking. It hits Tisbe square in the chin, causing both sisters to scream, and then the smoke fills the air. Barrelling off of the brush in spades, Cinder blinks as she notices that her palms are burning. She looks down at them, clenching them together and feeling the heat grow. It doesn’t hurt her. 

She’s so fascinated by it that she doesn’t even realize that The Madame is quickly approaching until she’s thrown to the floor. 

_ (The fascination with her Semblance ends as quickly as it’d began) _

_ (So she can superheat things. What a great talent for when someone has you in a shock collar and uses it near-constantly, for someone who’s been treated like a slave instead of a daughter. Sure, she’s been blessed with a  _ fantastic _ Semblance) _

Cinder receives the worst beating she’s ever had that night. It’s so bad that, when it’s finally,  _ mercifully  _ over, she stays lying on the ground for the next two hours, unable to move.  _ This place is going to kill me,  _ she thinks in a kind of dull terror, over and over and over again. Her thoughts stutter in between,  _ I’m going to die like this,  _ and then the darker, deeper,  _ I won’t let myself die like this.  _

The next day, she steals the Huntsman’s sword in a panicked blur. Desperation hinges on her every move; surely,  _ surely  _ this will save her. Whatever happens tonight; at least she’ll be away from the Tremaine family. No matter what, after tonight, she’ll be  _ free. _

None of that happens. 

Instead, she meets Rhodes. 

;;

“Just a few more years,” Rhodes tells her often. Always with a soft voice, gentle, but firm. “Have patience,” he says more often than that, usually when Cinder is acting out more than usual. He’s  _ so good to her.  _ No one had told him to train her, to comfort her, to actually speak to her like a human being, but he had. Because he is truly, completely,  _ good.  _ And he’s teaching her how to be, too.

“Just a few more years.”

But sometimes, hearing that causes more harm than good. 

Sometimes - not often, because she  _ hates  _ feeling angry around Rhodes - she’s had a particularly bad day when they start training. Sometimes, that anger, repressed and stuffed down during the day, just has to come out at night, with or without Rhodes’ presence. Sometimes, she snaps. “Be patient,” Rhodes tells her, leaping away gracefully from her foiled attack. “You must watch and  _ wait  _ for an opening!”

Her blood boils. So do her hands. “Patience?!” She snaps back, throwing her weapon to the ground with a fierce clatter. “That’s all you ever say! Be  _ patient,  _ Cinder, you’re too quick! Be  _ patient,  _ Cinder, you’ll join Atlas Academy in  _ four years!  _ Be  _ patient,  _ Cinder, YOU NEED TO BE PATIENT!” She snarls at him, “you sound like a broken record.”

Rhodes blinks, looking slightly rattled by her outburst. “Cinder,” he begins quietly, “are you okay?”

She freezes. What is she doing? Driving away the one person who cares for her? The one person who doesn't think of her as a burden? _What is she thinking?!_ “Sorry-” she bites her tongue. Madame _hates_ it when she says _I’m sorry_ , because it always sounds like she doesn’t mean it. “I- I shouldn’t have yelled. I know you’re just trying to help.”

“I am,” Rhodes says, and he steps closer. Cinder lets him pat her head like he always does. “I’m sorry if I keep repeating myself, but I  _ promise,  _ these last few years will fly by, and then you won’t ever have to come back here.”

“What if I want to?” She asks. 

He looks confused by her question, but answers her nonetheless. “I was under the impression that you hate this place, but I suppose if you wanted, you could return, yes.”

Cinder doesn’t look at him; her gaze is set on the moon outside, miles away from him. “If I came back, after I graduated from Atlas Academy, do you think-” she swallows, turning her eyes away from the window to meet Rhodes’ once more. He must see something in her, because his own expression tightens. “Do you think I would be able to get them arrested?” 

Rhodes’ first instinct is to lie. To tell her that  _ yes,  _ of  _ course  _ she would be able to arrest them, but that’s not the truth. His first instinct is to lie, but when he looks at her hard, hopeful face, he is reminded of the fact that while Cinder is in many ways still a child, she has never been innocent, nor naive. “No,” he finally says, and it hurts, the way her eyes widen slowly. “I.. Truthfully, I do not think anyone could take down your stepmother. She’s quite talented at hiding her tracks.”

“But-!” Cinder shakes her head. “But that’s not  _ justice!  _ Huntresses are supposed to bring people to justice, right?!”

Brow furrowing, Rhodes lets out a heavy sigh. “For better or worse, a Huntsman’s job is to uphold the law above anything else. Even if that law is keeping you from what you think would be justice.”

Now she stares at her feet, idly kicking a pebble across the room. “So… I’ll never be able to get justice for myself.”

He’s unsure about the way she seems to be mixing up justice and  _ revenge,  _ but that’s an entirely different conversation to be had. Instead, he just nods at her. “Like I said. It’s for better or worse. Sometimes, you just have to uphold the law even when you think it’s the wrong thing to do.” Rhodes sighs again. “I know how you feel, but in my line of work, if you don’t have the law, then you don’t have  _ any  _ rules or morals that could be helping you make the right decision.. Do you understand?”

She still doesn’t look at him. “...Yes, sir.”

;;

The day Rhodes gives her her very own sword is the best day of Cinder’s life, quickly toppling the day Rhodes had met her and began her training and leaving it in the dust. He holds it out to her with a proud look in his eyes and she takes it, that same pride rising in her chest, in her gaze, in her  _ heart.  _

“Thank you,” she says quietly. She doesn’t know why she’s whispering; the moment just feels like she should. 

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” Rhodes tells her, “you did all the work yourself. All I did was get you started.” He places his hand softly on her head like he often does, looking down at her with a kind smile. She itches to hug him. 

_ (She doesn’t) _

When Rhodes leaves again, he nods to her and says, “be good, Cinder. I’ll be back soon.” Cinder believes him.  _ I’ll be good,  _ she thinks, watching him walk out the door of  _ The Glass Unicorn.  _

_ And you’ll be back soon. _

He always comes back, after all. 

Her weapon is a godsend. It’s amazing - it’s  _ amazing -  _ how much one small thing like this can change. She still gets shocked, near-daily now, but she takes them. She never uses her Aura to quell the pain, either; can’t, or else The Madame would realize she’s been being trained. Plus, she isn’t very good at controlling when to stop or start it yet anyways. Instead, she takes the pain. Slowly,  _ slowly  _ learns to tolerate it, because what is this pain in the moment compared to a lifetime of freedom once she’s seventeen? 

_ Be patient. Just two more years.  _

At nighttime, she stares down at the weapon - at  _ her  _ weapon - and smiles. Something that is truly hers is still a rarity in her life; and something as powerful as this? The sword is an entirely new experience. 

She loves it; deeply, truly, wholly. 

She loves it so much that one night, six months after she’d received it, she forgets to hide it in a respectable place before going off to finish her evening chores. 

;;

The only good thing about her stepsisters is how they’ve never been able to be silent in their lives. As in; Cinder knows the  _ exact  _ moment when they’ve discovered her sword. She nearly falls into a panic, because they’re going to take it away from her and they’ll never let her train again and  _ oh oum she’ll never be able to escape will she,  _ but Rhodes always says to stay calm in the times of fear, and so she takes a deep breath and prepares. 

They will  _ not  _ take this from her. Not when she’s  _ so close.  _

_ She won’t let them.  _

Killing her stepsisters is gratifying. They hadn’t been as bad to her as The Madame, but she figures they’ll appreciate the afterlife more if they’re with their mother, and there’s no way The Madame will be living through the night, so really, Cinder is doing them a favor. She waits for them to return, and, upon entering her room, snaps Clorinda’s neck in a second. The Madame doesn’t even have enough time to push the button before Cinder’s onto her. Tisbe screams, and then keeps screaming as Cinder grabs onto The Madame’s head of hair and  _ pulls.  _ The Madame growls in pain, but doesn’t drop the remote. Instead, she clutches it even tighter and finds the button with her finger. 

Cinder drops to the ground as familiar electricity traces itself through skin and bone. Her breath leaves her chest in a whoosh as she cries out in pain. Above her, The Madame is pressing the button as hard as she can. 

“Clorinda’s  _ dead!”  _ Tisbe shrieks.  _ “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” _

The Madame turns - to console her daughter or to scold, Cinder’s not sure - and Cinder seizes her chance. She activates her Aura in a sudden move for just a second, letting her fight the pain for enough time to lunge forward and knock the remote out of the woman’s hands. 

“No!” The Madame leaps and grabs for the wretched thing. Cinder kicks it further into the room, and then, watching The Madame scramble after it, calmly draws her sword and slits Tisbe’s throat with a clean, cold motion. The girl drops to the floor to join her sister with a gurgle. 

_ One left,  _ whispers a dark voice inside of Cinder’s head,  _ one left, and then you will be  _ free!

But now The Madame has gotten back to her feet, remote firmly back in her grasp. Her mouth tightens as she looks over at the bodies of her daughters. “What have you done,” she asks, terrifyingly calm, “how do you know-” Cinder leaps forward. The Madame is faster. Her finger slams down on the button once more. Cinder screams and crumples to the ground once more. She tries in vain to activate her Aura again, but it doesn’t work. Writhing in agony, her ears just barely pick up what The Madame is saying. “You’ve ruined my life,” snarls the woman who was supposed to be her stepmother. “You really have. You’ve killed my daughters! You tried to kill  _ me,  _ after all I did for you!” She aims a kick at Cinder’s stomach. Cinder barely feels it beyond the electricity coursing through her veins. “YOU FILTHY, ROTTEN MISTRALI STREET SWEEPER!”

The pain stops, just for a moment. Cinder opens her eyes, not having realized she’s closed them. The Madame is standing over her, a dark look on her face. Taking the second to breathe, Cinder gasps for air. 

“I want you to say it,” says The Madame calmly. “You know the words.”

The pain begins anew. Cinder’s throat, already hoarse, feels rubbed raw from her shouts. 

“I want you to say it,” says The Madame again, and the pain only climbs higher as Cinder screams louder. “I want your last words to be the truest words you’ve ever spoken.  _ SAY IT!”  _ It could be so easy. Just,  _ without you, I am nothing,  _ and then the pain will stop. Cinder almost does it; almost gives up. The words are on the tip of her tongue. 

And then her Aura finally,  _ finally  _ activates for the second time. 

It’s only engaged for a moment before it dies again, but the moment is long enough. Cinder is up on her feet in an instant, and though her nerves are still singing with shocks, there is a new vigor in her movements, and before The Madame can even react in astonishment, Cinder is upon her once more. She lifts her with one, scrawny arm, grasping The Madame by the throat. The woman chokes and shudders, her finger still pounding on that  _ goddamn  _ button. Cinder can barely feel the electricity, now. Instead of pain, there is adrenaline surging through her veins. 

“You’re right,” she says to her stepmother with wild, reckless abandon, “Without you, I am nothing. But because of you, I am  _ everything!”  _

Then with a satisfying  _ crack  _ accompanied by a lovely clang, the clock strikes Midnight. 

Killing The Madame is  _ liberating.  _ This woman, who’d bound and chained her near  _ literally,  _ who’d tortured her for years, who’d starved and shocked and  _ enslaved her _ is dead. And just as she falls limply to the ground, neck broken and the godforsaken necklace still sparking around Cinder’s throat, the door shuts behind someone else, a newcomer to the scene. 

It’s Rhodes. “Cinder.”

Cinder smiles. She holds out her hands to show him exactly what she’s done. He’ll be proud of her, right? She finally stood up for herself. Now she doesn’t have to wait another two years until she can leave. She can leave  _ right now.  _ She shrugs as if to say,  _ look, Rhodes!  _ “I won’t have to run now.” The smile never leaves her face. It’s got a frantic, desperate tinge to it. 

Desperate for love, desperate for companionship, desperate for approval,  _ oum,  _ that above all else,  _ approval, his approval- _

“That’s all you’ll ever do.”

…

…. _ Oh. _

She sees how it is. Then so be it. 

Killing Rhodes is the worst thing Cinder’s ever had to do in her life, but the moment he slumps to the floor, all she can feel is light.  _ Light,  _ like a weight the size of Atlas has just been lifted off her chest.  _ Light,  _ because now there is no one to dictate who she is and can be; no one to tell her what is right and what is wrong. Now, those kinds of things are  _ choices,  _ not absolutes. Now, Cinder can pick and choose her own way of thinking. 

_ Light,  _ because Rhodes was wrong; for the first time in her life, she is truly and wholly _ free.  _

_ (She pulls the necklace from her throat with a startling ease, looks towards the moon, and smiles) _

;;

Six months after killing The Madame, her stepsisters, and Rhodes, Cinder gets caught. 

“You’re under arrest for the murders of four individuals,” the Huntress, clearly a new graduate, tells her, strapping the Semblance-stopping cuffs around Cinder’s wrists. Cinder growls, as frantic and feral as a starving wild animal, but even as she tries to rip herself free, the Huntress holds on tightly.  _ (She’s so thin that the cuffs scrape against bone, and she cries out in pain, unable to struggle any longer) _

They take her sword from her, and she almost cries when it’s ripped out of her hands. 

She gets locked up in some shitty Atlesian cell and hey, it’s certainly not the worst. At least there’s three square meals a day, really, more food than she’s had in a day  _ ever, _ and she has a bed to call her own, even if she doesn’t sleep much. She tries to make the best of it. 

But it’s hard. 

For some, it’s the boredom. It drives them crazy; just sitting around all day, every day, over and over and over again until either they get let out or they manage to end it some other way. For others it’s the people. Faunus have a particularly hard problem here, the poor creatures; trapped in small rooms with the worst people Atlas can offer. Faunus rarely last long. 

And then, for others, it’s the lack of mobility. Similar to boredom, some just cannot stand being stuck in these tiny rooms for the rest of their lives. Despite the constant supply of food, Cinder belongs in this group. 

Because what else has she ever wanted in her life, other than actual freedom? She’d had it for six months, and now it’s been taken away from her again. 

She’s in that Atlesian prison for a year and a half until something finally happens. She wastes the time away, planning and planning her escape but never committing. She never speaks unless spoken to; she keeps to herself. It’s lonely, but it keeps her alive. Then, two years to the day after she’d killed Rhodes and her adopted family, someone breaks  _ into _ the prison.

_ (Years later, she’ll wonder if Salem had chosen that day specifically to free her. It can’t have been a coincidence) _

Cinder is lying on her bed and staring through her window when it happens. This is her favorite spot; if she cranes her neck just right, she can see the shattered moon, floating above her. This is her favorite view in the whole world. 

Then the door to her cell swings open, and someone takes two, measured steps inside. 

Head snapping to the side, Cinder scrambles to her feet as a jolt of fear strikes through her. The newcomer is a woman - although not by any conventional means - with alabaster skin and dark veins running through her face and arms. She has her bone-white hair tied up behind her, creating a very imposing figure. Her eyes are the color of blood. She is a sight to behold, and Cinder is immediately positive that she is about to die at the hands of this woman. She doesn’t seem to be armed, but  _ something  _ had knocked the door down. 

Cinder stares at her with wide amber eyes. The woman -  _ demon?  _ \- looks her up and down and speaks; says in a silky voice, “yes, you’ll do quite nicely. What’s your name, dear?”

“Cinder,” says Cinder, and then, “are- are you here to kill me?” 

Because this woman can surely only be Death herself, having come to claim Cinder’s life; a creature of Grimm and human alike, twisting together to form a both beautiful and terrifying face. The woman’s eyes crinkle, but she doesn’t laugh. “No, Cinder, I am not here to kill you.” The smile on her face turns cruel; Cinder recognizes  _ that  _ expression. “I am here to liberate you.” 

“What?”

In response, the woman simply gestures towards her - very open - cell door. “After you,” she says. 

And,  _ hell,  _ Cinder’s not stupid enough not to take the best chance she’s ever had of escape. So, without another word, she steps towards the woman, watching her with wary eyes. Then, she steps out of her cell. There are no guards around, even though the alarm is going off. Cinder wonders what’s keeping them. The woman says, “follow me,” and then sets off down the front corridor. Cinder scrambles behind her with bare feet smacking on the cold floor, a stark contrast from the sharp clicks made by the strange woman’s heeled boots. 

“Why are you helping me?” Cinder asks, but the woman doesn’t respond. 

A guard finally shows his face from across the hall, holding up his weapon as he shouts, “stay where you are!”

The woman flicks her finger, and-

_ And-  _

And a billion lights erupt from her hand, shooting towards the guard and hitting him in the chest. The man screams, but when he drops to the floor, Cinder can see that he’s dead. 

“Is that your Semblance?” Cinder can’t help but ask, mystified. Her own Semblance is nothing special, but  _ that..  _ It’s incredible. 

But then the woman says, “no, it is not. I do not have one.” And then continues on. 

No other guards meet them as they make their way out of the prison, not even when they reach the front doors.  _ (The front doors!!)  _ Cinder wonders why the place is so empty once more, but also figures she might not want to know the answer. It’s only once they’re outside and a little ways from the building does something else happen.  _ It’s midnight, _ Cinder realizes vaguely, seeing the time displayed on one of the multiple screens surrounding the streets. The bells start to chime,  _ one, two, three, four- _

A man comes out of the shadows of a nearby alley; a scorpion tail dangling by his side. Cinder eyes it warily, but he doesn’t come close to her, just bows deeply to the strange woman and says, “I have what you asked for, my Queen.” He’s carrying something, and Cinder cannot see what it is until he lays it onto the ground. Cinder starts.

It’s the prison commander. A cruel man; he’d taken pleasure in terrifying the prisoners, especially the younger females. He’d tried to do the same with Cinder, but after suffering a broken nose and a finger she’d nearly bitten off, he’d left her alone. 

For the most part, that is. 

Still. Cinder’s never seen him look so pathetic.

He lays, shaking, on the ground exactly how the scorpion man had dropped him. “Please,” he whimpers, tears soaking into the dreadful mustache that adorns his face, “don’t hurt me.”

“Cinder,” says the woman. Something about her voice tells Cinder  _ look at her, listen to her,  _ and so she does. The scorpion man is long gone; but it’s as if Cinder can still hear his creepy, delighted laughter, echoing off the walls of the alleyway and inside the hollows of her head. “Take the kill,” the woman tells her, “he is  _ your  _ tormentor. I have no stake in this.”

Cinder has not fought someone in almost two years, but muscle memory works wonders, and her Semblance hadn’t been suppressed the entire time she’s been here. She kept training it whenever she could. She’d watched this man commit countless atrocities over the last year or so, and as a result, she feels no sympathy as she melts his throat into his spine. He makes a gurgling sound once she’s done, and she wipes her slimy hand on his clothes, disgusted. She supposes her Semblance can be useful for _some_ things. 

The woman is watching her with an impressed look. “You are very talented indeed,” she says.

“What’s your name?” Cinder asks her, starstruck. 

The woman smiles. It’s terrifying, it’s amazing, it’s  _ pure power. _ “My name is Salem,” she says, and then, reaching out a pale, bony hand, “and now that I’ve saved your life, why don’t you do something for me, too?” Cinder looks at her, pondering that. Salem is very clearly powerful; the most powerful person Cinder’s ever met. Stronger than Rhodes, than Cinder, than  _ The Madame...  _ Maybe, if she does this mysterious, mystical,  _ horrifying  _ woman a favor, then she’ll teach her some of what she did in the prison, and how. 

She smiles.  _ Why not?  _ It’s not like she’ll ever be able to have a normal life, anyways.

And so, without another thought, Cinder takes Salem’s hand. 

Salem’s eyes glow a tad brighter, a bit more cruel. Cinder doesn’t care. “Cinder, you said,” she says, dropping their hands to rest her own gently on the girl’s shoulder. “Is that it? No family name?”

Cinder looks away, swallowing. Then she gathers herself and looks back; meeting Salem’s eyes with a boldness she doesn’t entirely feel. “None.”

_ “Good.  _ I have an idea about that.”

;;

Salem is not a perfect mentor. Cinder learns that very quickly. 

She is quick with her critiques, slow with her praise, and she always,  _ always  _ makes sure Cinder knows when she’s made a mistake. 

“What are you?” Salem asks, from time to time. Sometimes when Cinder has misunderstood one of the orders given to her, sometimes when she does a subpar job on whatever task she’s been instructed to do;  _ always when she’s just failed.  _ “ _ Who _ are you?” She wants many answers. She wants to hear, “someone who seeks power,” she wants to hear, “your follower,” she wants to hear, “Cinder Fall, future Fall Maiden.”

And, usually, that’s what Cinder tells her. It’s the truth, anyways. 

But not this time. This time, Cinder fails worse than usual. This time, Salem  _ hurts  _ her. It’s not the first time ever, but it’s rare Salem ever actually lays a hand on her. Still, rare as it is, Cinder remembers every single time, keeping them locked inside her mind as they burn into shards. Salem stares down at her coldly, fingers still carrying the weight of a weapon with a million colors. Cinder’s struggling to keep consciousness; she still doesn’t know for sure just  _ how _ Salem can perform magic like she can, but  _ brothers, _ it hurts. 

“What are you?” Salem whispers. To her credit, Cinder doesn’t flinch, which is good. A fear-response would’ve gotten her in even more trouble. She grasps for words, for one of her usual replies, but for whatever reason, her vocal chords aren’t responding. Salem’s gaze hardens. Cinder feels the echo of lightning striking on her throat; grasping tighter and tighter no matter how she pleads. Salem asks again, because she is nothing but patient.  _ “What are you?”  _

This time, the words come unbidden; bubbling up in her chest before she can even think. Even now, after all this time, this is _still_ her instinctive reaction. “NOTHING!” _Too loud._ She’s quick to lower her voice, staring at her lowered knee in a wide-eyed panic. “Without you, I- _I_ _am nothing!”_

_ Ha. _

Isn’t this funny? She’s right back where she started. 

Salem blinks, covering up an intrigued look as fast as it appears. “Very well,” she says, waving a hand. “You’re dismissed.” 

;;

One day, Salem brings her Hungu. 

He looks the same; tall and broad-shouldered, dark hair cut short. In fact, if Cinder just ignores the fuzzy beard that now covers his face, it’s almost like she’s back in the orphanage in Mistral.  _ Almost.  _

When she asks why he has been brought here, to Salem’s fortress in the dead of nowhere, Salem tells her, “why, he’s  _ yours,  _ isn’t he? Part of you, at least.”

And maybe he is. Cinder doesn’t like to think about her time in Mistral, because the more she does, the worse she feels. But as she’s been content to just..  _ ignore  _ that part of her life, Salem seems insistent on making her confront it. 

_ (Cinder doesn’t bother asking how Salem even knows about Hungu. Salem knows  _ everything _ ) _

Hungu is startled when she goes to see him in his shiny and new Grimm-walled quarters. “Cinder? Is that you?” He says, eyes wide.   


Cinder regards him with a dull look. “My master tells me that she found you in a Mistrali cell,” she says flatly, _ “arrested for human trafficking.”  _

He swallows. “Cinder, listen-”

“No!” She snarls at him, anger she hadn’t known she’d held on to soaring up to bubble in her chest like a volcano ready to erupt. “NO EXCUSES. You were  _ selling  _ children! You- you sold  _ me!”  _ Now pacing, back and forth across his cell door, she shakes her head, almost unable to believe it all. “Did- was anyone ever actually adopted?” Cinder doesn’t meet his eyes. “Was it all fake?”

Hungu sighs, and she’s not sure what she wants him to say. Finally, he responds; says, “no, it wasn’t all fake. Some kids really did get adopted into good families. But you need to understand- you kids cost Lien! Not a single one of ya were cheap! You all needed more clothes, more food, more toys-  _ more, more, more!”  _ He gets to his feet. Cinder glares at him from the other side of the bars. “Look. I’m sorry you got a rough deal, but I had to make some bad choices, too! The lady who took you home offered a  _ lot  _ of Lien; I couldn’t just turn that down!”

“But you allowed her to take me away to be used as a slave,” Cinder says, finishing the story for him. The anger in her chest has been dulled for the moment; instead, she feels nothing but numbness. 

He sighs once more. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good life with her. But look-!” He gestures all around him. “You made it! You  _ survived,  _ and that’s all that matters. Right?” 

“You have to admire his nerve, if nothing else,” says Salem unexpectedly. Cinder whips around to find her standing right behind her; Cinder immediately drops onto a knee. “Stand, child. I would love to have a conversation with you both.” Salem drops her hand and takes a step closer to the cell, peering in on the man inside. Cinder gets back to her feet, eyeing them both warily. 

“Who are you?” Hungu asks, eyes flicking back and forth between them both. “Are you the one who brought me here?”

Salem tilts her head. “Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Because you hurt her.” Salem reaches out; places a deathly-cold hand on Cinder’s shoulder. Cinder tries not to flinch away from the touch. “You hurt my pupil, and if I am to be a good teacher, I cannot let you go unpunished. Can I, Cinder?”

“Wh-” Hungu’s eyes grow wide. “What do you mean,  _ punished?”  _

“Well, I’m not sure exactly,” says Salem, “after all, it is her who you hurt, not me. So it should be up to her what your punishment is.” She tilts her head towards Cinder this time. “What would you like to do, dear?”

Cinder’s hands clench into her fists. “I killed the woman you sold me to,” she tells Hungu, revelling in the way his face pales at the news. “She tortured me every day, so why wouldn’t I have killed her? I also killed her daughters, who took great joy in my torment. I killed them, and I killed the Huntsman who betrayed me; who  _ promised  _ me he’d get me out. I killed them all.” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Then, when she reopens them, her gaze is as full of fire as her hands. “So why shouldn’t I kill you, too?”

“Cinder-” Hungu starts backing away from the cell door. “No. You- you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t, right?” To his horror, the door starts to slide open. He presses himself against the organic wall behind him to stay as far away as he can. “Cinder, I practically  _ raised  _ you! You can’t kill me!”

She pauses, and her anger returns in a blistering wave, curling her lips back into a snarl as she steps into the cell and, with one swoop, grasps the cowering man by the throat. “You? Raise  _ me?”  _ She laughs, hot and desperately. “ _ No one  _ raised me. No one even tried. I raised myself.”

“Cinder, I-” Hungu manages to choke out, but he never gets any further. 

Cinder snaps his neck and when it happens all she can think about is the moments in which she killed her stepsisters and The Madame, the moment she killed  _ Rhodes,  _ when she killed the prison commander, and everyone after that. It’s quite a fair amount of blood on her hands, all for the chance to fly free. She’s been chained all her life; surely one day, she’ll finally be able to get rid of the shackles. She snaps his neck and thinks maybe,  _ just maybe,  _ his death will finally set her free. 

Salem watches her with an approving smile, and once the deed is done, says, “well done, Cinder.” Cinder dips her head in response, and Salem continues, “now that I know you are capable enough to get the job done, I want you to go to Vale.”

Cinder blinks. “Why? What’s in Vale?”

“I don’t recall needing to tell you everything,” Salem says. It’s almost pleasant, the way she says it, but there’s a burning behind her eyes that Cinder recognizes all too well. When Cinder doesn't say anything in response, a small, smug expression tugs at her bone-white lips. “Now. You will go to Vale, and when you get there, I’d like you to begin scouting out the White Fang troops in the area. I want you to bring me a full report on the ones in charge; what type of Faunus they are, their personalities, their  _ weaknesses…” _

“Yes, ma’am,” says Cinder quietly. She feels  _ exhausted. _

“Good.” Salem smiles. She turns to leave. “You should start packing; I want you to leave in the morning.”

The next day, Cinder heads out towards Vale. She doesn’t know what she’s specifically looking for, but because she doesn’t have a death wish, she plans to bring Salem what she’d asked for. For now. She’s just biding her time, after all. Once Salem teaches her how she can do magic, or maybe once Cinder’s gotten the powers of the Fall Maiden, or maybe even after, Cinder intends to break free. She just needs to become more powerful, and she’ll be free.  _ She just needs to become more powerful, and she’ll be free.  _

Halfway into her journey through all of Vale, Cinder notices a small, green-haired thief in the streets of a particularly poor city. The girl is starving, broken, and good at her occupation, and that gives Cinder a bit of an idea. After all, if Salem is allowed to keep pets - which is what Tyrian is, obviously - why can’t she?

_ You’ll do,  _ she thinks, watching the young thief take a diamond right out of the vendor’s hand without him even realizing it,  _ yes, you’ll do quite nicely. _

_ (Ha) _

_ (Isn’t this funny? She’s right back where she started) _

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading, first of all, and I hope you liked this! I had a blast writing it. Also, bc its a bit of funny trivia, but the ONLY song that I listened to while writing this (while on repeat) was Hallelujah by Pentatonix.


End file.
